


Flight

by Eyebrowdancer



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22456162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyebrowdancer/pseuds/Eyebrowdancer
Summary: Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak doubt their own memories.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

Eddie slumped down heavily enough that Richie sunk closer, dipped by the soft cushion. He took this opportunity to stretch his arm behind Eddie and rest it on the back of the sofa, fingers only an inch from his friend’s shoulder. For now, that was enough to make the soles of his feet prickle.

“Never had a delay before?” Richie asked, grinning at the concern creased on Eddie’s face.

“Of course I have. Doesn’t make it any more fun.”

Richie pulled a hurt face and nudged Eddie by leaning in slightly. “I’m here. That automatically makes it ten times more fun, surely?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and nodded sarcastically. His hand rubbed at his wrist just below the watch, as if urging time to move quicker. His dark eyes flitted between the departure screen, the view of the runway, the elegant staff serving tall drinks to the other first-class flyers. Richie watched the subtle muscular twitch under the skin of Eddie’s scarred cheek.

“Thought you’d enjoy the platinum experience. I lied to the reception guy to sneak you in with me.” Richie sat upright and smiled at the group across the room who appeared to have recognised him. Lucky he’d had the energy to shower this morning, despite recent traumatic events. He half hoped one of the group would approach and ask for an autograph or a photo. Of course, he was aware this only came from a place of trying to impress Eddie in whatever minor way he could. The poor guy was on the edge of his seat, ready to take off without the plane.

“Did I leave my razor at the hotel?” Eddie asked quietly. An already frayed thumb met his teeth for more gnawing as he stared ahead. Richie had watched him pack this morning while helping himself to Eddie’s untouched mini-bar. The guy had spent thirty minutes checking every nook of the room just in case he’d forgotten to pack a vital cotton swab or tiny shampoo. Richie couldn’t help but find it endearing.

“Can you relax? You’re not scared of flying. Why are you being such a pussy?”

Eddie finally met Richie’s gaze with a stern glare. “Were you asleep these past few days?” He examined Richie as if searching for signs of insanity before slowly easing up. Although the line between his eyebrows didn’t vanish, his eyes lost their wild panic and he stopped biting his thumbnail. He even leaned back to take advantage of the five-star sofa. “Sorry. It’s just. It’s intense. You know.”

“Yeah, I know.” It was Richie’s turn to stare ahead. It had been easier to make fun of Eddie with the others around, but one by one they’d departed for home. Richie found it harder to contain his true attitude when it was just him and Eddie. Part of him wanted to soak up their last hours together and imprint every moment to memory while the other was so overcome with fear and uncertainty that making small talk and jokes was all he could bring himself to do. Their shared ordeal had given him no time to fully process the sudden flooding of memories. Being hit with the unexpected realisation that he had always loved one person – and that person was about to board a flight that would put hundreds of miles between them – wasn’t easy to digest in just a few hours.

Eddie stirred beside him and started lifting his meticulous carry-on. Richie stood.

“It’s not here yet.”

“They called the gate, Rich. I want to get there before the overheads are full.”

Richie watched from behind a clouded screen as he slapped a firm embrace around Eddie, who reciprocated with one arm since the other was preoccupied with luggage. The sight of him leaving with not even a final wave ached somewhere deep and already injured. It felt unnatural and cold and clinical, unlike the painful yet organic blooming that expanded his heart as he recalled the details of his childhood, the Losers, Eddie.

“Eddie?”

The red face that reappeared in the first-class doorway grew rapidly nearer until it was only inches away. Richie felt a tight grip on his forearm. Eddie’s black eyes bore into Richie’s soul.

“You coming?”

All Richie could do was nod. He let himself be led by Eddie out the lounge and through the airport. The hand around his arm seared through his sleeve and branded his skin. His heart had either stopped or was thrumming too fast to notice discrete beats.

Eddie pulled him into the disabled bathroom and locked the door. The certainty and aggression in his body evaporated all at once. He opened his mouth but had nothing to say.

“You alright, Eds? Aren’t you gonna miss your flight?”

Richie frowned as the blood seemed to drain from Eddie’s face. The guy was clearly having some sort of breakdown. At least he wasn’t trapped in the sky. Tentatively, Richie stuck out a hand to pat Eddie’s shoulder.

“I mean, you remember it all, right?”

“Excuse me?”

Eddie shook his head. “We all remembered, right? But I think I’m adding memories that didn’t happen. You know?” He searched Richie’s eyes for recognition, agreement. “Thoughts you never had? Did It do that to us? Or did we?”

Richie sighed and put both hands on Eddie’s shoulders. He sat him down on the closed toilet, knowing Eddie would have to launder his jeans as soon as he got home. He knelt uncomfortably before his friend and tried to look reassuring. The pounding blood in his ears nearly drowned out his voice.

“I think you’ve just had a shit couple of days. We all have. You’re just in shock now it’s over.”

Eddie shook his head more fervently this time. “I was in shock the whole fucking time, Richie. I’m back now. Back in reality. And I remember the wrong things.” A brief, unhappy smile flashed across his face and he laughed coldly. “Why am I saying this? Christ, I sound insane.”

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Thanks.”

Richie patted Eddie’s knee and shifted his weight to avoid the threat of cramp. Even through the panic and the doubt and the probable madness, Eddie still looked like a painting. Richie knew he should feel bad for the guy but he was just delighted to have these extra moments with him.

“I think I’ve gotta get a divorce.”

“What?” Richie swallowed hard. What exactly were these ‘wrong’ memories of Eddie’s? Were they the same ones Richie had unexpectedly recalled over the last few days? A flutter of hope stirred in his stomach at the very thought of it. He pressed this hope down for fear of letting it show on his face.

“Myra. I’m not right for her. I can’t go back.”

“Come on, you’ve had a rough time. You’re just nervous about adjusting. It’s normal.”

Eddie raised a challenging eyebrow. “What about any of this is normal, Richie?”

“Alright, but you know what I mean.”

“Do you remember when we were friends?”

“What, we aren’t anymore?”

Eddie sighed. “Idiot. When we actually knew each other. When we saw each other all the time.”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s talk somewhere with food. Why am I on a toilet? Great. Wonder what I’ll catch.”

Richie followed as Eddie chose a crappy airport diner and found a table. It was the furthest thing from first-class that Richie could imagine but the burger was half the price and twenty times tastier. Eddie picked suspiciously at his limp salad.

“If you missed your flight just to talk, why aren’t we talking?” Richie asked.

“It’s not fucking small talk, is it?” Eddie rubbed his face with impatience. “I’m finding the words, aren’t I?”

“Alright, calm down.” Richie finished his food and leaned back to burp. Eddie pulled a disapproving face. “So, you want a divorce?”

Eddie nodded grimly and looked around the room. Other customers were chatting and eating, occasionally pausing to listen to flight announcements. The low ceiling and bolted-down furniture should have felt stifling but instead Eddie felt protected, hidden. As far as Myra knew, he was on the plane.

“If I’d known what I knew in those memories…” He shook his head, rearranging his thoughts. “If what I remember is right, and if I don’t forget it again, I can’t go back.”

Richie leaned forward, elbows on the sticky table. “Cryptic. Go on.”

“It’s like a part of myself was on pause until Mike called. Now it’s alive again, it doesn’t fit in with the life I had.” He shrugged and stole a greasy fry from Richie’s plate. “I built myself around a mistake. Does that make any sense?”

Richie knew exactly what Eddie meant. “Nope.”

“Never mind.”

“Hey,” Richie said, pushing his plate towards Eddie so he could finish the fries. “Since you’re not going back today, want to get a room at the hotel I’m at? Let me keep an eye on your failing sanity?”

At last, a small, real smile flickered at the corners of Eddie’s mouth. Richie’s heart leapt.

“Yeah. Alright.”


	2. Chapter 2

The hotel, disappointingly, had plenty of vacancies. Richie suggested a drink at the bar since the look in Eddie’s eyes suggested he wouldn’t be getting to sleep soon anyway.

“You gonna call her?”

“Definitely. Yes. Definitely tomorrow.” He stretched out his legs with a long yawn. Richie wondered how Eddie managed to look so put together despite it all.

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Thank god.”

Eddie smirked and rested his head back against the sofa, eyes to the ceiling. The top forty played dully from the radio in reception and the gentle hum of other guests slowly died down as night crept in. His cheek still hurt and the stitches were irritating, making it hard not to poke them with his tongue. Every time he did, the sharp tang of blood made him nauseous.

“Can I have your ice?” Eddie nodded at Richie’s glass.

“For your…?”

“Yeah.”

Richie passed his empty drink and started to fish out one of the ice cubes before noticing the grimace on Eddie’s face. He laughed and gave him the glass.

“I’m not contaminated, you dick.”

“Everyone’s contaminated,” Eddie muttered, hooking a finger into the glass and sliding out the ice. He put it in his mouth and winced as the cold pressed into his wound. Eventually, it started to numb and he relaxed again. He felt that the very act of sharing Richie’s ice was a step in the right direction, away from anxiety, but apparently not according to Richie.

“That’s gonna be one sexy scar,” Richie laughed. Eddie felt his collar tighten. “And a great story. Knife to the face, people might think you’re a hitman.”

“Or a thug.” Eddie sighed and folded, forehead to knees. “Fuck.” He felt Richie’s hand hover briefly before landing on his back.

“Don’t think you’ve got the hair for gangster life, sorry.”

“Work is going to ask questions.” He sat up so suddenly that Richie didn’t have time to move his hand. It was now trapped between Eddie’s back and the sofa. It started to sizzle. “They’ll sack me for getting into fights.”

“You didn’t get into fights.” Eddie shot him a look. “Well, you were in fights. But being attacked by a maniac is a bit different to punching some guy on the street. They’ll understand.” Another disbelieving glare. “And if they don’t, we all understand. I understand.”

“God, you’ve gone fucking cheesy. No wonder you need a ghost-writer.” Richie slid his hand out and elbowed Eddie sharply in the ribs. Despite the agitation to his bruises, he was grateful. Richie wasn’t treating him delicately. Maybe they were still the same friends after all these years. “How’s it going, anyway? I didn’t get the chance to ask.”

“How’s what going?”

“Your shows. Your comedy thing.”

“My comedy ‘thing’? Wow.”

“Sorry I haven’t been keeping up with every detail of your life,” Eddie sneered. “I didn’t know who you were the last twenty-seven years.” He looked down at the hands gripping his knees. His expression softened. “I didn’t remember any of you.”

Richie wanted to feel bad about that, but he knew he’d forgotten the Losers too. It was late. He felt bold. He put a hand on Eddie’s.

“It’s ok. You wouldn’t like my stuff anyway.” He squeezed Eddie’s hand once and let go when he noticed his palm start to sweat. “My jokes would probably go over your head.”

“Maybe I could see a show one of these days? You got any coming up?”

“I’m in the middle of a tour now. Had to turn my phone off to avoid my manager.”  
“Shit.”

“I know.”

Eddie swallowed the small slivers of ice and stole a sideways glance at Richie. The man’s face was focused, but not on anything Eddie could see. The tension lines by his jaw were like shark gills. The balance of this predatory strength against the childish curls and vulnerable glasses reminded Eddie of the invincible kid Richie had been when they knew each other. Would he get the chance to know Richie again?

“I’m going for a piss.” Richie stood and Eddie was embarrassed to notice his heart leap in panic.

“Thanks for sharing.”

While Richie was in the bathroom, Eddie tortured himself. He poked his tongue into his stitches and thought about what he’d forgotten. The fact that he’d no idea who Richie was until a few days ago somehow didn’t subdue the onslaught of terror and delight that burst through his memory dam. Every teenage knot in his stomach from watching Richie swim in the quarry or try a bad accent had returned all at once. He had never experienced this level of exciting anxiety when dating Myra. Looking back, it had felt more like an obligation to a predetermined fate. With Richie, he was dangling above a chasm of opportunity and choice. His feet grew numb with the vertigo.

And then the crash. Remembering that Richie had forgotten him, too. Richie had a whole life with plenty of other people to fill it, none of them Eddie. Just because Eddie’s marriage and restricted social circle had fallen apart didn’t mean Richie’s would. How long before they went their separate ways and Richie forgot him again? Eddie wanted to be sick.

He found himself in the lobby and clearly looking as lost as he felt, since the tired receptionist approached and offered assistance. Once pointed in the direction of the toilets, he burst into the gents and had to hold back his bile.

“Ed?”

Eddie vomited on the floor. Richie jumped back but still got some flecks on the bottom of his jeans. His mouth tightened to contain the cursing.

“Fuck. Shit.” Eddie crouched as if he could somehow undo the damage. Richie watched from the sinks.

“You’ve got some… There.” Richie pointed at Eddie’s face. “No, coming out the-”

“Jesus.” Eddie felt his cheek and his fingers came away wet. He’d managed to be sick through the wound. “Is it bleeding?”

“Hard to tell. Come here.”

Eddie straightened up and stepped around the chunky pool on the tiles. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and was nearly sick again. Orange fluid seeped from between two of his stitches and dripped down his jaw. Richie grabbed a wad of paper towels from the dispenser and threatened to dab them on Eddie’s face. He dodged them just in time.

“Not fucking sanitary,” he snapped.

“What’s going on? You’ve not been drinking. Sewer water in your guts, huh?”

“I will puke on you if you don’t shut up.”

“You already did,” Richie reminded, lifting a foot in demonstration. He was smiling.

Eddie broke. When he moved in, he was surprised by the sensation of stubble that kissing Myra had never conjured. He held Richie’s face tight in his hands and only released him when the sting in his wound reminded him where they were. He turned away and stared at the wall, unable to believe what he’d just done. He supposed this was the last he’d see of Richie, then. Losing a wife and a friend all in the same day. His heart plummeted.

“God, you taste like shit.”

Eddie barely missed the pool of vomit as he vanished from the bathroom. Richie stared after him, a smile tugging at his face.


	3. Chapter 3

The hotel room was plain and comfortable. Eddie peeled off his socks and was proud at leaving them where they landed. Unwrapping the branded slippers, he shuffled into the bathroom to wipe his face and brush his teeth. The toothpaste was like fire at his cheek but felt cleansing nonetheless. A small bubble of foam appeared on the other side of the wound and he dabbed it away. His reflection was grey and sagging, nothing like the boy he only recently remembered he once was.

Back in the bedroom, he carefully undressed and prodded analytically at his various bruises and scrapes. Nothing hurt as bad as the look of smug amusement on Richie’s face after the kiss. Just the thought of it sent fiery shame into his gut. He put on a t-shirt and some clean joggers before easing himself down on the bed and switching on the TV. It was late and he didn’t feel like confronting a potential light sleeper, so he turned on subtitles and muted the sound. When he heard the sudden knock, he sprang a foot in the air.

“Why are you so god damn loud?” he hissed, opening the door to a grinning Richie. “You gave me a heart attack.”

“Not the worst thing that’s happened to you lately,” Richie said, sidling in uninvited. When the door was shut, he stayed close. Eddie refused to look at him. Since when did Richie become a giant? “You feeling any better?”

“Sort of.” He moved away awkwardly, unsure what to do with his arms or where to look. Had he ever been this uncertain around Richie before? Had he ruined what remained of their distant friendship?

“Eds, you know you can talk to me. Sure, we haven’t spoken for almost thirty years and there’s a strong chance I’ll put whatever you tell me into a routine…” He smiled reassuringly and trailed off. Eddie wanted to punch his perfect face. “What was that about?” he added quietly.

“Probably the painkillers they gave me. And this shit with Myra. Forget it. Sorry I puked on you.”

“Right. Fair enough.” Richie tried not to let his disappointment show. Eddie looked ready to throw him out and he didn’t want to risk pushing his already crumbling chances. “See you in the morning.”

“Wait. Fucking hell.” Eddie sat at the desk and nodded impatiently at the armchair by the window. “Fine. There’s no hope of sleeping tonight anyway.”

Richie sat at the end of the bed instead of the armchair, partly to defy Eddie but mostly to be closer to him. He leaned forward on his elbows, ready to listen.

“Getting a divorce doesn’t mean you have to quit ladies, Ed.”

“I changed my mind. Fuck off. Goodnight.”

“No wait. Come on, I’m kidding.” Richie pulled an innocent face and felt a surge of triumph when Eddie rolled his eyes in surrender. “But you gotta tell me what’s going on. Otherwise I’m gonna have to stick around just to make sure you don’t do more crazy shit.”

“Yeah, I guess kissing you is crazy.” He glared pointedly but there was no heat behind it. “It really is the painkillers, Richie. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

“Well, hopefully. Can I say something?”

“Since when did you need permission?”

Richie smiled and turned his gaze down to his hands. Eddie watched him pick distractedly at his fingernail and couldn’t help but notice that mix of fear and excitement rise again in his chest. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Richie wanted nothing to do with him. Richie probably had a girlfriend and wouldn’t appreciate being accosted in a public bathroom by a short-arsed, puking, completely forgettable blast from the past. Eddie admitted that he hadn’t thought about Richie in years, so why did it hurt to imagine the guy returning to his own life without him?

Well, Eddie knew why.

“Are you leaving Myra because you’ve met someone else?” Richie asked carefully. Eddie had never seen him so tactful of other people’s feelings.

“No, of course not. I’m not a cheat.”

“I’m not calling you a cheat. Alright, let me rephrase.”

“You’re gonna ask if I’m gay.” Eddie raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms defiantly.

“You did kiss a man, if I remember right.”

“I kissed _you_ , Rich.”

“I’m not a man?”

“You know what I mean.” Eddie jabbed his tongue into his stitches to distract from the terror of talking about it all. He had only just got Richie back. He had to tread lightly not to lose him again. “We’re old friends. We’ve been through shit together. If Bill or Mike had stayed at the airport with me maybe…” Was he really going to say it? Richie already looked hurt. “Maybe I’d have kissed one of them. I’m out of my mind with pain and drugs and whatever the fuck we’ve been doing these past few days.”

“Ok. Makes sense.” Richie rubbed his neck and stood. “I’ll get out of your way. I’m sure you could call Myra now. She’ll be worried about you, night time or not.”

“What? Sit down.”

“You want me to stay now? Only you didn’t seem keen on me coming in.”

Eddie creaked to his feet and put a hand out to grab Richie’s arm.

“I don’t know.” He heard the tremor in his voice and scorned himself for it. “I don’t know what’s going on. But can you stay?” He hesitated and let his hand drop. “I really want you to stay.”

“Shit, Eds, no need to cry.” Richie sat back down on the bed and laughed. Eddie hated how easily the guy could switch between tones. When they were younger it made it hard for Eddie to trust him at first. Until they got to know each other, of course.

“I can’t be the only one feeling a bit fucked up after all this?” Eddie sat back at the desk and slowly eased his feet up onto the bed beside Richie. A slight barrier between his friend and the door. “Tell me I’m not going mad.”

“You’re past that. But if it makes you feel better, we all went mad.” Richie glanced at Eddie’s feet and pretended to recoil in disgust. “It feels like two different lives. You know, I can’t remember a single line from my tour.”

“Well that’s understandable. You didn’t write any of it.”

Richie gave a fake laugh before continuing. “I don’t remember who I had lunch with. Where I hung out at weekends. As if that’s all someone else’s.”

Eddie leaned forward. Finally, Richie was starting to say something that aligned exactly with Eddie’s thoughts.

“I know what you mean.”

“It’s fucking terrifying how your mind can just wipe things. You know, you look so different but I knew it was you as soon as I saw you.”

“Yeah? I look different?”

Richie grinned and shoved Eddie’s feet off the bed. “You’re shorter, for a start.”

“So funny.”

“Your eyes are the same.”

Eddie swallowed. His skin was alight. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And your hair. Still annoying.”

“How can hair be annoying?” Any hope of pulling some reciprocity from Richie faded fast. What felt like a meaningful moment to him was probably just another late night among hundreds that Richie enjoyed with his entourage and fans. Forgettable.

“This is how you make it less annoying.” Richie reached out and shoved his fingers into Eddie’s hair. He shuffled his hand wildly before sitting back to examine his work. “Nope. Still irritatingly perfect.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Tell me honestly, did you bring a comb with you into the sewers?”

“Is this some backwards Richie method of giving me a compliment?”

Caught out, Richie laughed and looked away. Eddie knew he was probably imagining the slight redness that appeared on Richie’s face.

“Well, I was gonna tell you that you grew into yourself, but I changed my mind.”

“I keep hearing that! What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Richie stood and looked past Eddie into the mirror on the wall behind the desk. “Was I some gargoyle kid with an adult’s face or something?” When he sat back down, he stared at Eddie, expecting an answer.

“Yes.”

“Fuck you.”

Eddie smiled to himself and felt the muscles in his cheek complain. “You know you’re good-looking, Rich. Stop fishing.”

Richie looked genuinely surprised. “Is that why you kissed me?”

“You’re not _that_ good-looking.”

“Clearly I must be.” Richie caressed his strong jaw and lifted his thick eyebrows, as if appraising his features by touch. When the silence lingered, his act fell away. “Was it really just painkillers? I’m not trying to get an ego-stroke or anything. But I want to know.”

“Want to know what?”

Richie sighed, impatient. “Christ. You kissed me because you wanted to. I’m not calling you gay, I’m not saying you’re madly in love with me, but you made that choice.” He paused, frowning. “And I’m relieved you did.”

“You’re… relieved?”

“Turns out I forgot some pretty serious stuff, too. You know. About myself.”

Before Eddie could let that sink in, Richie was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Eddie’s breakfast went cold as he bit his nails and stared out the window. He hoped morning would bring sense to his mind but the harsh light of reality only made his fears more prominent. The facts were plain. He was going to ask for a divorce. He threw up on Richie. He kissed Richie. Richie disappeared.

“Can I have that?”

Richie sat opposite and immediately reached across to steal a limp triangle of toast. He ate sloppily and watched Eddie’s frown lessen.

“You’re here?”

“Where else?”

“Don’t eat from my plate.” Eddie pulled the mostly untouched breakfast towards himself.

“Did you sleep well?” Richie’s confident slouch and messy chewing might have disguised his nerves to someone who hadn’t known him since childhood. Eddie tried to smile.

“Like shit. You?”

“Couldn’t work out the AC. It started buzzing halfway through the night and nobody answered when I called for someone to fix it.” He shrugged and wiped the crumbs from his beard. “I cancelled my flight back.”

Eddie managed to maintain a fairly neutral expression. “Why’s that?”

“Probably terrified of facing the manager. I listened to some of his voicemails earlier.” Richie laughed and shook his head. “Definitely lost a fan there.”

“But what about the tour? Just cancelling the whole thing?”

“I’m gonna think about that later,” Richie said, eyes drifting to his hand as it pinched the tablecloth. “Anyway, did you get talking to Myra?”

It was Eddie’s turn to look sheepish. “Not yet.”

“Second thoughts on the whole divorce thing?” Richie contained the undertone of disappointment in his voice. It made sense that Eddie’s lunge was more of a frantic, trauma-induced act of recklessness rather than anything meaningful. He shifted as if he could physically shake off the hope that had crept up on him since the sudden kiss.

“Definitely not.”

“When’s your flight?”

“Yesterday.” Eddie bit the inside of his cheek and winced, catching the stitches. “I haven’t booked another.”

“You staying here, then?” Before Eddie could reply, Richie cut in again. “I’m thinking of renting a place a few miles out. Some new business hotel. Self-catering, all that.”

“Oh yeah. I’ve stayed at a few of those for work. Never in Derry.”

“They’re all the same. You should come too.” The words were out of Richie’s mouth before he could process the courage it took for him to say them. “They have up to four bedrooms each. I don’t know about you, but I could use the company after all this shit.” He laughed loud to make sure Eddie knew there was no obligation. The sound rung hollow.

“I should probably start saving for a divorce lawyer,” Eddie replied. His skin fizzed at the invitation and the possibility of spending more time getting to know his best friend all over again. “I shouldn’t have wasted money by missing that flight.”

“It’s on me, idiot,” Richie said. A hovering waiter finally arrived and glanced pointedly at Eddie’s full plate. Eddie nodded for it to be taken and Richie spotted the look of disdain on the waiter’s adolescent face as he carried it away. “It’ll be much better than this dump.”

“You can afford that? And I thought I did well.”

“You’ve gotta admit…” Richie stretched proudly and Eddie looked away to avoid staring at the solid, lean torso arching before him. “I must be fucking funny.”

The apartment block stood out from the usual Derry architecture with its superfluous protrusions and smooth textures. Every external wall appeared to be made of perma-polished glass, interrupted only occasionally by slim shafts of pale, uniform wood or delicate chrome. Richie felt criminal just letting the soles of his shoes touch the carpet in the lobby. Eddie waited by the elevators and tried to appreciate the artwork.

“Double room apartment, should be under Tozier.”

The receptionist knew who he was but clearly didn’t want to let on. Richie guessed he either disapproved of his stand-up or was perhaps a budding comic, resentful of Richie’s success. Nevertheless, he completed the transaction and offered luggage assistance, which Richie magnanimously declined. He joined Eddie at the elevators.

“Asshole.”

“What?” Eddie asked, dazed from staring too long at the abstract paintings.

“Guy at check-in. I think he hates me.”

“Probably.”

At the apartment, Richie curbed his instinct to claim the larger bedroom as his own and generously let Eddie decide. In the end it didn’t matter, since Eddie preferred the smaller room for its proximity to the fire escape.

“I saw a sign for the pool downstairs,” Richie called from his room while they both unpacked. “Remember the time you got athlete’s foot?”

Eddie finished hanging up his clothes and moved through to sit on the armchair in Richie’s room. It was angled towards the glass wall that served a view of the woods and a hint of the town in the distance. He watched Richie fling clothes into the drawers and relaxed.

“You can’t torture me anymore, Rich. I’m over it.”

“Yeah?” The edge in Richie’s tone sparked a long-forgotten, specific terror deep inside Eddie. The grin that emerged under his neglected beard should have given Eddie enough warning to put his arms up before the sock flew into his face. Scrabbling, he plucked it from where it landed on his lap and flicked it to the floor. Richie continued to unpack, pretending no crime had been committed. Quietly, he said, “Athlete’s face.”

“You are such a motherfucker.”

Richie turned to face him slowly, eyes wide and brow high. Eddie shook his head in furious warning. Richie took the hint and said nothing. Eddie was surprised to see he really had grown up.

“Are we swimming or not?”

“I didn’t bring my beach gear for this nightmare reunion, did I?”

“Skinny dipping?”

“Funny.”

“You’ve filled out since high school. Nothing to hide anymore, Eds.”

Eddie’s face started to burn. “Filled out?”

Richie kicked the stray sock towards the wardrobe and sat in the armchair opposite Eddie. Everything about Richie was somehow regal, Eddie thought, despite his clothes, his hair, his stupid expressions. The confidence Richie had to be himself no matter where he went or who he spoke to. It would have driven Eddie mad with envy had he not been so infatuated.

“Yeah. Not fat. Built. In a good way.”

“Didn’t notice you checking me out,” Eddie laughed.

“I didn’t want you to.”

Shit. Eddie’s throat tightened. He had been wondering when their conversation from the night before would finally claw itself into daylight. He wasn’t prepared to confront it all.

Richie peeled his endless body from its seat and shrugged off his jacket before sitting back down. Eddie avoided staring at the roll of his shoulders and the expressionless, absent-minded beauty of Richie’s face when he wasn’t thinking of a snide quip or dirty pun. Even through his periphery, Richie’s effortless hair and striking angles gnawed at Eddie’s focus.

“I’m not gay, Rich.”

“Alright.”

Richie’s regal posture didn’t change but the shark gills returned to his jaw and cheek. Eddie shifted and tried not to pick at the frayed millimetre of skin sticking out from his thumbnail.

“It’s been a shit time. My head’s all over the place.” He pushed stiff fingers into the wrinkles on his forehead, eyes searching the far wall for any scrap of logic, of certainty, anything to hold on to.

“Listen, forget it. You’re right. You’re fucked.” Richie’s laugh failed. He concentrated on the trees outside. “It’s great seeing you again. Great to see everyone. And I’ve been thinking.”

Eddie looked at him, at the square profile. “Yeah?” He prayed the pathetic hope wasn’t too evident in his voice.

“Yeah. It really has been a shit time. I’m a mess too. Haven’t been myself, haven’t said what I mean. Can’t say what I mean if I don’t know what I’m thinking, right?” He still hadn’t met Eddie’s eye. “Anyway, I just want to say sorry for any weird vibes I’ve been giving off. It’s a fucked-up time and we’re dealing with it in our own ways. I know you’re not gay. Neither am I. People do stupid shit when they’re terrified.” He leaned across to slap a firm, brief hand onto Eddie’s knee, finally looking at him. He flashed a grin and Eddie’s heart froze. “Let’s get a drink.”

“It’s midday.”

“Tonight, stupid. I’ve got some emails to check, people to call back, you know.” Richie stood and hesitated, as if expecting Eddie to copy. Which, of course, he did. “I’ll meet you outside around seven? Eight?” He patted Eddie’s shoulder and guided him to the joining hallway between their rooms. Before Eddie knew it, he’d been ushered into his own side of the apartment and the click of Richie’s lock was ringing painfully in his ears.


	5. Chapter 5

“You alright, buddy?”

Eddie ignored him and continued to rattle the ice in his glass with the thin black straw. Richie had arrived at the bar late enough that Eddie was just about to either leave or order something much stronger. He’d spent the day lost and bored, unsure why he agreed to let Richie’s plans take priority. But he hadn’t agreed, had he? Richie had given him no choice. Richie should feel lucky that Eddie had even bothered to show up. And here he was, arriving late as if his mere presence should be seen as a favour to Eddie.

“What’s with the silent treatment?” Richie sat at the barstool beside him and ordered a beer. Eddie seethed.

“You’re not serious?” he said coldly. Richie raised his eyebrows.

“Never.” Instead of receiving the laugh he expected, Richie watched as his friend scowled down into his empty glass. Sensing Eddie’s anger, Richie cleared his throat and sat upright. “Hey, sorry I’m late. Manager kept me on the phone for hours, he’s fucking furious.”

“Yeah, you’re late. And you left me hanging like a gormless idiot.” Eddie smirked miserably at the bar top. “I mean, I guess you knew I’d fucking wait. Got me round your finger, haven’t you?” Eddie sunk the watery dregs and motioned to the barman for another.

“How drunk are you?” Richie laughed uneasily, patting Eddie’s back. Eddie grunted and rolled his shoulder to shove him off.

“I don’t have to be drunk to be annoyed, you dick.” He finally turned to meet Richie’s eye. “Just because I missed a flight for you doesn’t meet I want to suck your cock.”

Richie shook his head firmly at the barman and moved the fresh drink aside before Eddie could take it. He leaned in, frowning, and lowered his voice. “You wanna talk about this somewhere else, buddy?”

Eddie shifted away, sneering at Richie’s efforts. “After keeping me hanging all god damn day, you wanna leave just like that? You’re unbelievable!”

Several heads turned at the disturbance and Richie motioned apologies on Eddie’s behalf. The barman was flashing disapproving glances while serving another customer. Richie pulled a face to commiserate and reassure.

“If you’re mad because I didn’t hang out with you today– “

“Oh my god.”

“–Then I’m sorry you were bored. I had stuff to do, I told you.”

“You don’t see a problem here?” Eddie reached across Richie’s arm to retrieve his fresh drink and swallowed half before Richie could do a thing. The irate gleam in his eyes shone brighter.

“What’s this about, man?” Richie ignored his own drink, realising that one of them had to be sober for whatever shit-storm Eddie was driving towards. He didn’t like the look of concentrated indignation on his friend’s face. It was a rare sight during their youth but Richie knew it required handling with care.

“Just…” Eddie stood sharply and hesitated, turning to Richie with an exasperated sigh. “You can’t just expect me to hang around like that. What’s the point in missing my flight if you’ve got other fucking plans?”

“Hey, man, I’m sorry. I thought you’d have shit to do, too.”

Eddie hung his head to gather his thoughts. He wasn’t accustomed to drinking and was already feeling a headache creep into his skull. While the pain behind his eyes had been alcohol-induced, his anger was sober.

“I’m putting off Myra. It’s too much right now.” In truth, Eddie had started to wonder if divorce was his best choice. Sure, he’d had a moment of uncertainty and mistakenly kissed an old friend, even going so far as to start doubting his own sexuality. But he’d had time to think. Anyone would react strangely given the circumstances. He shook his head. “Too much.”

“I get it.”

Richie finished his single drink out of politeness before escorting his friend from the bar – an establishment he guessed wouldn’t welcome Eddie back any time soon. Small-town people would remember when their local was invaded by loudmouthed city men. It didn’t matter if Eddie was raised here, he was now as foreign as a Martian.

The evening swept them along the streets and blew away the forgetfulness of their adulthood. After a few blocks, they could remember their usual routes and paths and shortcuts with ease. The mild chill sobered Eddie and he buried his hands in his pockets, shoulders high against the falling night. Richie walked ahead due to his longer stride but soon managed to match Eddie’s pace, the pair ambling through their memories in a quiet mix of fondness and fear.

Eddie’s anger had mostly abated, despite the fact that he still couldn’t believe Richie’s audacity at leaving him hanging all day. He was somewhat distracted from his grudge whenever a warm curtain of streetlight cast stark, pointed shadows down Richie’s face. In his frustrated boredom during the daylight hours, Eddie had been frantically rationalising his sudden onslaught of unwelcome and unhelpful feelings. He knew he wasn’t attracted to Richie. Or men at all. He knew himself. It’s just that Derry had toyed with his mind again, the lingering insanity of the place still leaving its traces. Now, walking several feet apart with his friend down the middle of these empty roads, Eddie felt content to believe he was the same as he ever was. The only difference was the added memories.

They had no destination in mind. Eddie found himself surprised by how few homes were remodelled or renovated, every street almost identical to its memory. He let his feet carry him, the breeze at his back or side depending on the direction of the road when they turned a corner.

Soon, the houses started to thin and the trees became thicker and higher. Ahead of them stretched two dark, curving lines – fences. Eddie recognised the bridge immediately.

“Ah, shit. We’re miles from the apartment.”

“It’s alright,” Richie replied softly, continuing on even when Eddie halted. “Know where we are?”

“Duh.” Eddie watched Richie’s back as he kept walking, looking at the wooden fence as if assessing its craftsmanship. “Rich, it’s fucking freezing. How’d we get all the way out here?”

“What’s the matter? You hear clowns?”

Eddie shot an unimpressed but fond glare at Richie. He was immensely grateful for Richie’s continued friendship despite the kiss. Richie must’ve understood the peculiarity of the situation and the effect it had on Eddie, forgiving him immediately for his mistake. Any of Eddie’s work friends in the city would have knocked him out or spread rumours in the office. Not Richie. It was difficult to stay angry at someone who forgave so readily, even if he had been a dick by leaving him hanging for hours. Unless.

Unless Richie had spent the day avoiding Eddie because of the kiss. Perhaps he was thinking up ways to let him down gently, unconvinced by Eddie’s realisation and revelation that he was, indeed, still straight. Perhaps Richie was sickened by the thought of his old best friend planting one on him and needed a few hours to recover. Perhaps he thought Eddie wanted more than friendship and wanted nothing to do with him. How was he going to break it to Eddie that he’d missed his flight for nothing?

“What were you catching up on?” Eddie asked, walking over to lean against the first fence-post. Richie was picking at the flaking wood up ahead.

“Huh?”

“Today. Emails, calls. You said your manager was furious?”

Richie laughed and scuffed the ground with a foot. “Yeah, my ear caught fire on the phone to him.”

“What else?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were talking to your manager all day?” Eddie knew he sounded prying, but the dark and the cold and the quiet squashed his focus into a beam directed at Richie. He didn’t want him, but he wanted him to understand. He needed Richie to believe him.

“Pretty much, yeah. There’s a lot of messing around with dates and venues. I’m in a shitload of trouble.” He smirked, his teeth somehow flashing even in the dim light. When he noticed Eddie failing to reciprocate the levity, he stepped closer. “What’s up, man?”

“You believe me, right?”

“Sure.” Richie paused, scratched his neck. “About what?” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“About the whole… ah, fuck.” He swung away, arms wide and eyes upturned as if seeking assistance from the cosmos. Richie watched from the fence.

“About you.”

“Yes.”

“I believe you.”

Eddie stared, unsure whether Richie meant what he said. “Just because I had a fucked couple of days and I’m divorcing Myra doesn’t make me gay.”

“I know.”

“Good. Well, then.” Eddie’s hands fell to his hips, unsure and waiting. He hadn’t expected Richie to be so convinced. It was a relief, but he’d built up his energy for an argument and so felt like he’d been left dangling. He let out a long breath and watched it vanish in the air. Richie started to head back the way they came. “Wait,” Eddie called. “Why did we end up here?”

“Wanted to see if everything was the same,” Richie replied without turning around.

“And is it?”

“I guess so.”


End file.
